Little Talks
by varterral
Summary: A deeper exploration of Anders and Airi Hawke's relationship in 26 oneshots- one for each letter of the alphabet.  Will not be in chronological order.


A is for Airi/Anders/Anger/Adequacy

Rating: T

Pairing: Anders/f!mage!Hawke- Airi

Summary: A deeper explanation of Airi and Anders' relationship in 26 one-shots. Will not be in order.

"_I don't like walking around this old and empty house"_

"_So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear"_

* * *

><p>Both of them have trouble sleeping now. Hawke wakes up to his screaming every night, and holds him. It's the only time he's truly himself- after the nightmares have passed, Justice comes out, and Anders writes.<p>

Tonight's one of the few nights he is sleeping, and when he creeps past the stage of sleep where the nightmares bother him, she slips out of bed. It's been exactly a year since Leandra died by the hands of that disgusting mage, and Hawke chokes back tears as she stands in front of her mother's room.

With a shake of her head, she continues down the stairs and into the vault. She traces her fingers over the elaborate patterns that embellish the chests she had once raided to look for her grandfather's will, and ended up finding something much more important- her brother.

A few tears escape down her cheek, but what truly breaks her is the large portrait of her mother, while she was still so young and happy.

_She looked just like Bethy. Sweet, young innocent Bethy._

Hawke grabs the painting off the wall, and the splinters bite at her hands as they shake, white-knuckled hands, just like how they looked when she drove the blade into Carver in the Deep Roads, but didn't cry then.

_Carver. That hot-headed prig, he had no business trembling like that, he was supposed to be the brave, the strong one._

Hawke laughed, and it might or might not have been tinged with hysteria. Her shoulders shook with the effort to be quiet, and her mana rolled off of her in waves. It powered her muscles, making her so much stronger than she really should be, and the frame began to crack

The splinters that embedded themselves in her hand broke the skin, and the memories of all of their deaths came rushing back.

Hawke snapped the frame in her left hand.

_For the family legacy I've destroyed with my magic, and my failures._

Her right hand snapped the frame, and tore the painting.

_For Da, who trusted me down to his last breath, and the promise I made to provide and protect the rest. Who never blamed me for his death, though it was my magic that killed him._

She ripped the painting completely in half

_For Bethy, who never should have run ahead. I let her die, trying to be a hero. _

One have started on fire, and a bitter laugh escaped.

_For Carver, who I shouldn't have let into the Deep Roads. Who I had to kill with my own hands. Who despised my magic; the only one who understood my curse._

Lightening jumped from fingertip to fingertip, and the smell of ozone mixed with the smoke.

_For Mother, who never hurt a fly, and was cut apart by one of my kind._

Hawke froze the fire before it spread to other items in the vault, and smiled at the change in her hands from burning to frozen.

_For Anders, who is far too good for anything as demented and destroyed as I. Who I will fail in the end._

She snapped one half of the painting again, and threw it across the room.

_For Ri, who grew up way too fast, and couldn't handle it._

The other half joined the first one after it was snapped again.

_For Airi, the disturbed woman I am. For the curse I carry._

She fell onto her knees, her hands covering her face as she sobbed.

_For Hawke, the woman I'm supposed to be. For the Champion I pretend, but could never be._

* * *

><p>"<em>The stairs creak as I sleep,<em>

_It's keeping me awake"_

"_It's the house telling you to close your eyes"_

* * *

><p>Anders rolled over in his sleep a few times, and would have gotten up because of the noises he heard, but just closed his eyes, thinking that Hawke couldn't sleep and was making herself something to eat or drink. <em>It's good she seems that she's getting better. She did really need the rest, being the Champion can't be easy, and the anniversary of Leandra's death didn't help.<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Some days I can't even dress myself"<em>

"_It's killing me to see you this way."_

* * *

><p>He thought back on the day before, where she refused to even get out of bed. He knows she thinks it's her fault that Leandra died, and now believes magic is a curse upon Thedas, but she's refusing to see what she used to. They two mages almost never talk about anything of value anymore, and they haven't so much as kissed in months.<p>

Justice is fuming about her change in opinion, and attempts to escape. Anders puts a tight clamp on him and tries to go back to sleep.

* * *

><p>"<em>There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back"<em>

"_Well tell her that I miss our little talks."_

* * *

><p>Airi feels the disturbance in the Veil, the tell-tale rip of Justice drawing power. Her mana leaves her like she was hit with a Holy Smite, and she wipes her face, and tells herself to remember she's Hawke again, but when she looks up, she sees a mirror and lashes out, shattering it with her fist. She hears the mirror fall, but she's already flying up the stairs to see Anders. She bursts into the shared bedroom, healing her knuckles with a tiny bit of mana, and wraps her arms around him. He's shaking, so she rubs his back and makes murmuring noises of reassurance.<p>

They never talk anymore, but she understands his lack of control and emotions now, and it's enough to keep her with him.

As Anders enters the house through Darktown the next day, he sees the destroyed painting and broken mirror, and realizes it's not just the mana in their blood and commitment that is keeping them together.


End file.
